


The Heavens Will Part

by shinigami_yumi



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Episode: s09e01 I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here, Episode: s09e03 I'm No Angel, Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait, Facial Shaving, First Time, Fluff, Implied Castiel/Sam Winchester, M/M, Morning Wood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 09:12:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1068702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinigami_yumi/pseuds/shinigami_yumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the laundromat after the run-in with Hael, Castiel meets a young Jared Padalecki. Despite being perplexed by the former angel's quirks and comments, the aspiring actor offers him food and shelter for the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heavens Will Part

**Author's Note:**

> This is my pre-game event for the mid-season finale. I am prepared for the episode to end with me drowning in tears, so I wrote something cheerier. Jared is about eighteen in this.
> 
> As always, many thanks to [Meinarch](http://sassypancakes.tumblr.com) for the quick beta.

Castiel looks from his clothes in the tub to the vending machine in the corner and then down at the little bit of money he has as the only other person, an elderly woman with white hair, leaves. There’s only enough for one cycle each in the washer and dryer. He can't walk around with bloodstained clothes, but he's thirsty, and he has learned that humans cannot live without water for long.

Once, he never had to worry about such things.

Just then, the door to the laundromat opens again, and he turns as a young man walks in with a blue basket full of clothes in his arms, maneuvering carefully through the door.

“Hey,” he greets cheerfully, setting his basket down by the machine to the left.

Castiel stares.

He looks… just like Sam. That is, if Sam were fifteen years younger and untouched by a lifetime of tragedy. Castiel shakes his head, smiling wistfully. “Hello.”

The other smiles as he starts loading his clothes into the washer. "Popular time to be doing the laundry." They're the only ones here.

 _Oh. This is sarcasm._ "Yes," he tries awkwardly, not knowing how to respond. "Um. We're here after all. Not that we're..."

The stranger laughs, shakes his hair out of his eyes. It's a little shorter than Sam's, cut more evenly around his head. He also has a charming drawl Castiel’s only heard when he visited the Southern states with Sam and Dean. It fits him.

"Um."

Castiel’s stomach rumbles, and that seems to amuse present company too.

"Hey."

He looks up.

"You need more quarters, eh?" The other reaches into his pocket and produces a roll wrapped tightly in paper. “Here.” He holds it out.

Castiel looks at the coins and swallows thickly. “I… I can’t take your money.”

“Sure you can.” The young man grabs his hand and presses the roll of quarters into it. “I’m giving it to you. I just went and got a few rolls earlier today, so I have enough to spare.”

“We don’t even know each other.”

It must have come out more like protest than gratitude, for the other instantly replies, “Well, I’m Jared, and I’m here because the washer in my apartment broke down. What about you?”

“My name is—um… Clarence.”

“Like the angel in It’s A Wonderful Life?” Jared asks, chuckling. The eyes that look him over seem at once blue and green. “You’re even wearing what passes for a nightgown these days.”

Castiel looks down at his white boxers and feels his cheeks grow warmer inexplicably. “I didn’t know Clarence was an angel… which I’m not.” Maybe he shouldn't use that name then. Suddenly, he understands why Meg said to read a book or watch a movie.

"Well, that's a likely conclusion. How can you not have seen that movie?" Jared pours a capful of detergent into the tub, shuts the lid, puts in the requisite number of coins and starts the cycle up. "Why don't you get your laundry started while I get some snacks? You can use my detergent too. We’ve got half an hour to kill, then we can put ‘em in the dryer and head back across the road to my apartment, where we’re gonna watch It’s A Wonderful Life because you have got to see it."

Jared scampers off to the vending machine, and Castiel dutifully does as Jared did earlier, starting up the wash. The other returns with two bottles of water and two blue packets. "Okay, blueberry or hot fudge sundae?" He holds the two packets out, sitting down on the floor with his back against the machine.

"Pop-Tarts," Castiel reads bemusedly, sitting down as well. “Um… Blueberry.” Jared hands it over with a bottle of water and opens his own to start eating. “Thank you.” He opens the bottle of water and drinks. It tastes… sweet on his parched lips, and he feels extraordinarily grateful. After he’s drained half the bottle, he takes an experimental bite of the pop-tart. “It’s very sweet,” almost unpleasantly so, but the blueberry filling is quite good, and he hadn’t realized how hungry he’d been until he started eating.

“Uh-huh,” Jared agrees, finishing his and starting on his water. “Larrupin’. Shoot, I mean delicious.” He chuckles, a little embarrassed. “I’m trying to lose the Texan talk, so I’ll be more versatile, but what can I say? Habits of a lifetime, y’know? Anyway, what’s your story?”

Castiel sighs, eating the rest of his pop-tart. He doesn’t think the truth will be believed even if he were willing to tell it. “I trusted the wrong person,” is what he settles for at last.

“And it left you homeless? Damn, that’s awful! What about your family and friends? Won’t they help you?”

“My family.” He thinks sadly of Hael. “If they find me, they will kill me. My friends,” he smiles a little, thinking of Sam and Dean, “yes, they will help me, but they’re far away. I’m on my way to see them.”

“C’mon, man, I know people say that, but they're family, right? Family wouldn’t actually kill you.”

Castiel winces like he’s been slapped. “No. You’re right.” After all the angels he’s killed, “They’re not really my family, not anymore.”

Jared frowns. “You don’t mean that. Like, look, I’m here because I wanna be an actor. But my folks, they want me to go to college and become an engineer, eh? So I take all my savings and run out here and get this tiny little place across the street because there were a couple of auditions last month, and it’s now or never, I reckon. And Mom and Dad, they’re fit to be tied, so they said fine, I ain’t getting no help out here, and if I don’t make it as an actor before my money runs out, then Imma haul my sorry ass back home and go to college like they want. But that doesn't mean they're not my family anymore, y’know?”

Castiel can’t help smiling wistfully again. Jared wouldn’t understand. “It… It’s complicated.” Still, if he thinks about it that way, Sam and Dean are more like his family than anything or anyone else. He holds out the rest of the quarters. He doesn’t need them anymore now that Jared has bought him the water and snacks. “You should take this back. If you run out of money, you’ll have to go home, and maybe you’ll miss your big chance.”

“And if you run out of money, you won’t reach your friends.” Jared pushes his hand back, folds his fingers over the coins. “Keep it.”

The washer behind him shudders to a stop, and Jared climbs to his feet, extending his hand to help Castiel up. Castiel takes it and stands. Jared is so young, so kind, so full of hope. In this moment, he doesn’t regret the choices that led him here. There’s something here worth protecting.

Jared cleans out the lint screen and packs his clothes into the dryer with two softener sheets. Just as he finishes, the washer with Castiel’s clothes finishes its cycle too, and Castiel takes them out, shutting the lid once they’re all bundled in his arms.

“Is that all?”

Castiel looks down at the bundle in his arms. “Um…”

“Why don’t you just put ‘em in with mine then? A few pieces ain’t worth a separate dryer.” Before he can answer, Jared’s taken the clothes out of his arms and tossed them into the dryer with his own. He shuts the door and starts it up, then turns back to Castiel. “Well, we’ve got an hour, and now Imma make you watch It’s A Wonderful Life with me over frozen pizza and ice cream.” Jared grabs his hand without waiting for an answer, and they’re halfway to the door when he stops. “Oops, you can’t go out like this. You’ve got shoes, don’t you?”

Castiel nods and goes to put them on. They’re not very comfortable without socks, but they’re the only pair he has. When he stands again, Jared is holding out his grey hoodie. He has a white Our Lady Peace shirt on over his jeans, and it clings to his lean muscular form. Vaguely, Castiel remembers Sam’s body is very fit too. It’s the sort of thing he never noticed before.

“Thank you.”

He takes the hoodie and puts it on, discreetly slipping the angel blade he’d hidden between the washers up the sleeve. It’s too long, a little loose, but it’s soft and warm and it smells like… pine trees and spices. Jared takes his hand, and he doesn’t resist, lets Jared lead him across the road and a little to the right to a nondescript door that he unlocks with a key from his pocket, then up two flights of stairs and through a door into a dimly lit room.

“It’s a bit of a mess, sorry,” Jared mumbles sheepishly, flipping on the rest of the lights before kicking off his shoes and clearing some clothes off the old couch covered in a navy sheet. He shakes his head, and Jared probably mistakes it for exasperation because he hurriedly explains, “I um… I don’t know what’s been on that, so I just put a sheet over it. You’re the first person I’ve invited in since I moved out here. It’s not like I know anyone around here, so I wasn’t expecting guests.”

There’s a kitchenette on his right, a counter with two high chairs separating it from the living area where there’s the couch, a small coffee table and a television set diagonally against the wall. Behind the couch, there’s a desk, an unmade bed with a cupboard beside it and a door that presumably leads to the bathroom. Jared drapes the clothes over a rack by the door, then grabs the mugs off the desk and coffee table and takes them to the kitchenette. Castiel toes his shoes off and follows the other to the sink where Jared has started doing the dishes.

He smiles fondly. “You don’t have to clean on my account. I have no basis for comparison.”

Well, in a manner of speaking, he supposes he does. The level of mess here looks exactly like Sam and Dean’s motel rooms — the equilibrium between Dean’s careless messiness and Sam’s relative neatness. It’s familiar, comforting; he likes it.

Jared chuckles, a little self-deprecating. In the yellow light, his blue-green eyes seem to twinkle hazel. “Um, no, these are kinda… my only dishes? I need to wash ‘em so we can use ‘em.”

 _Oh._ “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, no. You should sit down. You’re a guest.”

“I’m a homeless person you picked up at the laundromat across the street. You’ve already helped me more than I ever thought anyone would. Let me do something.”

“Okay.” Jared turns, inclining his head at the freezer. His dimples are charming, and there’s such a sincerity to his young face. Once again, Castiel is struck by how very much he resembles Sam. “Open that and pick a pizza.”

Castiel frowns, but obliges. There are four: Classic Supreme, Meat Medley, Chicken Club and Bacon and Pineapple. He takes the Chicken Club because chicken seems the most appetizing option of the meats.

“Read the instructions? I’ve started preheating the oven, but we’ll have to wait another ten minutes at least before we can put it in. In the meantime, you can help me dry these with that cloth on the rack there.” He tilts his head towards it and holds out a wet plate.

Castiel takes the cloth and wipes the plate down before setting it down in the rack and taking a mug from Jared. In short order, all the dishes are mostly dry and in the rack. Jared grabs two clean cups and opens the fridge.

“Drink? I have milk, OJ and Dr. Pepper.”

“OJ…?”

Jared obligingly pours them each a cup of— _oh,_ orange juice. He takes it and sips, leaning against the counter. The oven dings, and Jared extends his hands for the pizza, which Castiel unwraps and hands over. He puts it into the oven and asks, "How many minutes?"

"It says fifteen to twenty-three."

Jared turns the timer dial. "Okay, now let's fix your Christmas movie deficiency."

~*~

"Would that it were still so," Castiel sighs as the end credits come on.

They’d paused to get the pizza, the laundry, and then the now empty half-gallon carton of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream on the table. He has also been to the toilet twice, and Jared had laughed heartily when he'd asked if the other ever tired of urinating. It’s a good movie though, and perhaps it’s the hunger, but the pizza and ice cream were delicious.

"But you’ve got friends, don't you?" Jared protests, misinterpreting. "You said so earlier."

"Yes," he says, smiling at the thought. "I meant about the angels."

"Ah." The other turns pensive. "Well, does it make any difference though?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's not like there's ever been any concrete proof of how it is, right? Maybe all that matters is what people believe. It's not about the truth. It's about the story that gives them hope."

He ponders this, thinks about the lies that Sam and Dean tell civilians. “Maybe you’re right.” Maybe no one wants to know about the monsters in the night. If they’re happier thinking they’re safe, then perhaps it is best not to disillusion them. “May I use your shower?”

“Of course. Um…” Jared rifles through the basket of freshly laundered clothes and pulls out a towel. “Here’s my spare bath towel.” He ducks his head. “I didn’t think I’d ever need more than two.”

Castiel takes it gratefully, heading into the small bathroom, and it isn't until he's standing under the warm spray that he finally understands Dean's appreciation for hot showers and good water pressure. He almost forgets why he's here, and by the time he steps out in his own clothes again, he's torn between going back in and apologizing to Jared for using so much water. In the meantime, Jared has cleaned up the place some and traded his jeans for a pair of loose-fitting shorts.

"I'm sorry for taking such a long shower," he blurts when the young man looks up. "Thank you for tonight. I should be going."

"What?" Jared stands, alarmed, and glances at his watch. "But, Clarence, it's almost midnight. Where are you gonna sleep?"

"I um... I don't know," he admits. "It's hard to sleep anyway, feels like a freefall into darkness. I'm having trouble getting used to it."

Those eyes —and he still can't decide what color they are— soften. "Why don't you stay?" Jared steps closer, takes the trench coat from his unresisting hands and drapes it over the back of the couch. "You said your friends are far away. You can walk with me to the bus station tomorrow. I have an audition to go to anyway." He reaches for Castiel's tie. "And before that, I can teach you how to wear this properly."

"They never told me I'd been wearing it wrong all this while," he muses as it's removed to join the coat.

Jared chuckles, moving to his cupboard. "The look kinda suits you. Here, don't mess up those clothes. They kinda need ironing as is." He hands Castiel a T-shirt. Black this time, it reads 'Nirvana.' Castiel takes it and changes into it, draping the rest of his clothes over the back of the couch too. It's long, reaching down to mid-thigh, comfy. "See if these shorts fit?" They do, quite well, but it seems chilly now compared to the heat of the shower. He shivers.

"Are you cold? Um, I'd say you could take the couch, but I don't have any extra blankets. It might get chillier later too." Jared stops, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from flailing. "I'm sorry. I'm rambling, and this is all rather poorly thought out. Um. It'll be a bit of a squeeze maybe, but if you don't mind sharing my bed..."

"Compared to not having a bed at all?"

Jared chuckles nervously. "Uh-huh. Um. Go ahead on then. My turn in the bathroom."

He hurries in without waiting for an answer, and Castiel heads over to the bed. There's just barely enough space for them both, but the sheets are soft, and the thick quilt looks very warm. He sits down. It's comfortable. He'd never appreciated such things before. But after these past few days of travelling without rest, he thinks he'll sorely miss having a bed from here on out.

When Jared comes back out, he smells of mint, and his face is damp. Sitting down on the other side of the bed, he seems to suddenly remember, "I have an extra toothbrush you can have," and jumps to his feet.

Castiel follows him to the bathroom, where he opens a pack and hands Castiel a blue and purple toothbrush. Castiel isn't entirely sure what to do. All he knows is that he's supposed to end up brushing his teeth with the brush and some toothpaste. So he turns the tap and leans down to rinse his mouth, then reaches for the nearby tube of toothpaste. He's about to squirt some into his mouth when he realizes that Jared has stopped tinkering in the medicine cabinet in favor of staring at him. He stops.

"Am I... Am I doing something strange?"

"Well, uh... People normally put the toothpaste on the toothbrush...?"

"Oh." He looks from the tube in his right hand to the brush in his left. "Right. Um." Carefully, he squirts some toothpaste onto the brush. "Sorry."

Jared shakes his head, watching with a bemused expression as Castiel brushes his teeth. "I uh... just found an extra razor if you'd like to shave."

Castiel runs his fingers over his chin. His stubble is getting longer. He doesn't know how fast his facial hair grows now that he's human, and he's not sure when he'll get the chance again. Rinsing his mouth, he answers, "Please. If you don't mind."

Hesitantly, as he holds out the razor and shaving cream, Jared asks, "Do you know how?" Then, flustered, he quickly adds, "Uh. Not to imply that um..."

"I don't, actually," Castiel confesses, looking down at the toothbrush as he rinses it. "This is all very new to me — sleeping, eating, passing gas... this feeling of being all alone and the realization that I'm going to die someday." When he looks up, the other is staring again, brows furrowed in confusion, and he chuckles in spite of himself. "I'm sorry. You must think me strange."

Blinking, Jared shakes his head. "I just... Did you wake up recently with amnesia? I mean, you can't have lived all these years without— Well, never mind. I shouldn't pry, sorry. Let me show you."

Jared turns the tap to warm and wets his hands, then cups Castiel’s face, rubbing warm water all over the former angel's jaw. He looks up into Jared’s eyes —blue and green flecks in honey, he thinks this time— and feels like he’s missing something, then Jared licks his lips to speak.

“First, you wet your face. Warm water is best, I think. Then,” he reaches for the shaving cream and dispenses some onto his hand. “You apply the shaving cream to the areas you want to shave.” Long fingers are gentle as they spread the cream, and Jared's smile is fond. He mirrors the expression as Jared rinses his hands. "Finally, you shave." Jared turns him by the shoulders to face the mirror, so he can watch, and carefully runs the razor down his right cheek. The cream comes off smoothly, leaving his skin clean-shaven in the razor's wake. Fascinating. Jared taps the razor on the edge of the sink to get the cream and hair off, then holds it out. "Now you try. Lots of things are like riding a bike — bet you'll remember how as soon as you try again."

Castiel decides against explaining in favor of shaving the rest of his face. It's quite easy, but he feels inexplicably accomplished when it's done. He rinses the remnants of the cream off his face, then Jared is patting some cool liquid out of a bottle onto his skin. It stings in some places, but it smells good, like pine trees and spices. Oh.

"Aftershave," the other explains. "It's antiseptic, so it stings if you've broken skin while shaving."

"Thank you." Of all people, he hadn't expected a stranger to be teaching him these things. He looks up to find his host blushing.

"Y—you're welcome," Jared mumbles. "We should sleep."

He leads the way back to the bed, Jared switches all the lights off, and they climb under the covers. Even with them pressed back to back, they're right at the edges of the mattress.

After several moments, he asks, “What do you do when you have trouble sleeping?”

In the silence, he thinks Jared may have already fallen asleep, but then, “Count sheep…?” comes the tentative suggestion a few seconds later.

Well, then. “One sheep,” he whispers dutifully, imagining them. “Two sheep. Thr—”

“Um, Clarence?”

“Yes?”

“Could you… Do you think you could do that silently?”

“Oh. Y—yes. Of course. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. G’night, Clarence.”

“Good night, Jared.”

He closes his eyes and starts counting sheep again, but he’s distracted — it’s too quiet. Outside, the occasional car drives by, and the noise of the city can faintly be heard, but beneath that, there's nothing but a pervasive silence. It stretches out into the darkness like every sound is but a thin veneer over an abyss he's about to fall into. He opens his eyes. He can't sleep.

Just then, Jared turns in his sleep, rolls over so he's half-draped over Castiel's form, an arm and a leg trapping Castiel in a loose embrace. The sudden intimacy feels awkward, but he doesn't dare move for fear of waking his companion. He closes his eyes to try counting sheep again. He's tired, and he knows he needs to sleep. The soft, even hush of Jared's breathing ghosts over his ear now. It's warm in Jared's arms, and he can hear the steady rhythm of Jared's heartbeat, feel the slow rise and fall of Jared’s chest against his back. He doesn't get past ten.

~*~

Sunlight is filtering in through the gaps in the curtains when Castiel wakes more rested than he's felt in a long time. They shifted in their sleep — his head is tucked under Jared's chin, pillowed on his chest, and their legs are intertwined. Their arms are around each other, and Castiel finds himself thinking it'd be wonderful if he could wake up like this every morning. He tilts his head up to see if his bedmate has awoken, and the other stirs.

He blinks, then smiles. “Mornin’."

Castiel returns the smile. "Good morning."

"Did you count many sheep last night?"

"Seven."

Jared shifts so they're fully facing each other, and Castiel gasps in surprise at the jolt of pleasure the movement causes. _Oh._ Castiel feels his cheeks heat, and a quick glance shows him Jared is blushing too.

“I—” They start speaking at once and stop.

Castiel starts to scramble away, but Jared tightens the arm around him.

“Wait! Um. Do you w— If you don’t m—”

Jared can’t seem to get the words out or even look at him, and he doesn’t know what the other is trying to say, so “I don’t know,” is the answer he settles for.

Jared finally meets his gaze — confused, embarrassed, hesitant. “I mean—” Instead of explaining, Jared palms his groin, and he cries out, thrusting involuntarily into that warm hand. “Yes?” Tentative, hopeful.

“Yes,” he agrees breathlessly, uncertain of exactly what he's agreeing to, but then Jared is atop him, soft lips moving on his own, well-defined hips rocking into his, and Father, it feels good. He doesn't know what to do, but he arches up into the contact, opens up to Jared, and it feels right, cradled in long, strong arms.

Jared drops his head to mouth at Castiel's neck and murmurs, "If I said this was my first thought when I saw you standing by the washers last night, would you think any less of me?"

Castiel doesn't answer, just pulls him closer and kisses him harder.

~*~

Castiel sighs, content, as long fingers idly trace random patterns on his skin. They're lying side by side in bed, and it looks to be mid-morning. Jared laughs suddenly, running a hand through his hair.

"This is crazy. I don't— I don't usually pick up homeless men twice my age and seduce them."

Castiel grins, looking over. "So what made me special? Which I'm not, particularly. I mean—"

"Well, those white boxers left very little to the imagination." The other's eyes twinkle. "And I liked what I didn't have to imagine well enough."

In spite of the circumstances, the words make him blush.

"But, to be honest, well... You looked like you needed the company."

He smiles, wistful. "I did," and because this seems like honesty hour, he adds, "My name isn't really Clarence either."

"Oh?"

"Castiel. My friends call me Cas."

"Okay. Mine call me JT."

"T?"

"Tristan." Jared shifts to face him, and he does the same. "So. Cas. Any other confessions?" he asks with a teasing grin.

Castiel considers before replying, "That was my first time."

Blue-green eyes blink. "With a man? That you can remember?" He shakes his head. "Never mind. Either way, I suppose it's fair game."

Instead of answering, Castiel asks, "I heard it's supposed to be really special?"

Pensive, the other replies, "In a way. Maybe it depends on the person. Was it? For you, I mean."

And he wonders if it's too bold, what the rules are for this sort of thing, because he likes Jared. But if all the weirdness so far hasn't sent the young man running... "I don't know," he hazards, looking down. "I have no basis for comparison."

For a long moment, there is no response, and Castiel can't help the sinking feeling that he's ruined things. Again. Then Jared giggles.

"Was that a really roundabout way of saying we should do that again?"

"Yes...?"

Long fingers slide into his hair and cup the back of his neck to reel him in.

"You should have just kissed me."

~*~

“Breakfast?” Jared asks at length after they’ve cuddled languidly in bed for some time.

"I was just getting hungry," Castiel admits, sheepish. "It's so strange, having these constant needs."

The other looks perplexed, but only offers, "I have cereal. Or we could go out."

If they go out, they’d need more money he doesn’t have. He’s already overly availing himself of Jared’s generosity. “Cereal is fine.” It wouldn’t be right. And it’s just food, after all. He’s lived without it for thousands of years. Just because he needs it now doesn’t mean he should be picky about it.

Jared brightens, so that seems to have been the right choice. “I’m glad we’re staying in,” he says, sitting up with a wicked grin. “We can’t make out over breakfast outside.”

He smiles as well, sliding off the bed, and follows Jared to the kitchen. The other takes out two bowls, two spoons, a large bottle of milk and six boxes of cereal. “They’re all Cheerios,” he observes, bemused.

His host looks embarrassed, but defends with, “Look, the apple cinnamon and dulce de leche ones taste really good together, okay? So do the chocolate, peanut butter and banana nut ones. Try it.”

He shakes out one each of apple cinnamon and dulce de leche. Castiel obediently eats it off his outstretched hand. He’s right — the apple, cinnamon and caramel tastes good together. Next, Jared makes him try one each of chocolate, peanut butter and banana nut — not as good, but yes, the combination is pretty pleasing.

“Also, I like the taste of these better than Froot Loops,” he says, offering a few Fruity Cheerios.

Castiel can’t compare, but they’re all right. He pours himself half a bowl each of apple cinnamon and dulce de leche and can’t help admiring how beautiful his companion is, perfectly sculpted with a golden tan that glows in the morning light. Maybe Sam would look like this too, beneath his loose plaid shirts and jeans. Ruefully, he wonders if Sam has scars now, to mirror the ones on his soul, if Jared is what Sam could have been without his tragic destiny. But he'll never know. That fate cannot be undone.

Jared grins and gets one third each of chocolate, peanut butter and banana nut, then passes him the milk. They bring their bowls to the couch and set them down on the coffee table. Then the other pushes him back so he’s lying down. Snagging two pieces from his bowl, Jared positions them carefully over Castiel’s nipples before licking them into his mouth. He shakes his hair out of his eyes, grinning at Castiel’s “oh” of pleasure. Castiel pushes back, so they switch positions and copies the action with two pieces from his own bowl, pleased with Jared’s satisfied smile.

“Mm. Better than going out, eh?”

“Yes,” he agrees, leaning in for a kiss. “Very much better.”

~*~

They’re standing in the bathroom after successfully squeezing into the tiny shower together, and Jared is showing him how to properly wear his tie.

“You don’t have to go, you know,” the other says quietly, adjusting the knot and collar. “Even if acting doesn’t work out, you could always come home with me to Texas.”

He closes his eyes and kisses Jared on the cheek. He doesn’t know how to express how touched he is by the sentiment. “You don’t know anything about me. Even I know staying for a night is very different from going home with you.”

“Can’t we try?” The doorbell rings. “I’ll get that.”

As Jared walks to the door, Castiel gets a bad feeling, a nagging tingle at the back of his neck that has him getting the angel blade from his coat and cutting his hand to draw the angel banishing sigil on the bathroom mirror.

“Hey, um,” Jared says as he opens the door. “If you’re here to invite me to that Mormon church that just opened up—”

“We’re looking for our friend, Castiel.”

There’s a certain quality to that voice that he recognizes. After all, until very recently, he could hear it in his own. He draws more quickly.

Jared, looking confused, turns. “Cas? When did you tell your friends you were here?”

Then he’s flying into the wall, barely missing the television set, as two people in black suits step in. Castiel doesn’t waste any time, slamming his hand into the finished sigil, and they vanish, screaming, in a burst of white light. He rushes to Jared’s side.

"Jared. Jared? Are you all right?"

The other groans as Castiel helps him sit up, but doesn't appear to be injured. "What the hell was that?"

"My family." At Jared's look of stunned disbelief, he adds, "The reason I must go. They won't be gone for long." He rises.

"Your hand's bleeding."

"Never mind me. I need to lead them away from you."

"Five minutes." Jared holds up his hand as he stands and goes to the bathroom. "Five minutes with the first aid kit, and I'll walk you to the bus station." He glances at the blood on the mirror, but doesn’t remark on it, and returns with a small white box from the medicine cabinet.

Castiel smiles resignedly. "That would only endanger you." He winces as Jared starts cleaning his hand with some liquid from a bottle in the first aid kit. "You can't keep me safe from them."

"But I can keep you company." Blue-green eyes flick up to his own. "Cas, what's going on? Tell me the truth. I promise I won't call the cops or anything."

He sighs. He should leave, he knows, but Jared has been so kind. He owes him at least this much, even if the truth won't be believed.

"I a—was an angel of the Lord."

~*~

Walking beside Jared, Castiel can't help looking around surreptitiously, trying to find any angels that could be watching. He needs to ward himself, but not until he's somewhere far from Jared. He doesn't want Jared to get hurt for helping him, or just being in the wrong place at the wrong time, like so many others have before.

"Hang on a sec?" They're outside a convenience store. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back, okay?" Jared runs in.

Castiel isn't sure if the other really believes his story, but he hasn't been declared a lunatic yet, so maybe that's a good sign. He looks around again, angel blade at the ready. No sign of anything suspicious yet. Maybe if he leaves now…

“Sorry for the wait,” Jared calls as he runs back out with a shopping bag. “Here.” He thrusts it into Castiel’s hands. “This should last the journey.”

Castiel opens the bag. Inside are two boxes of granola bars, a six-pack of milk and a large bottle of water. He looks up. “Jared, I ca—”

“Don’t give me that,” the other interrupts, squeezing his hand. “Not after this morning. You won’t tell me where you’re going, and you won’t take my money, but I won’t let you refuse this.”

He blinks the sting out of his eyes and shoulders the bag. “Okay.” They resume walking, holding hands.

When they reach the bus station, Jared hands him a small piece of paper. “Call me when you reach your friends?” He smiles, somewhat sadly. “Look, I gotta fess up — your story sounds pretty crazy, and I don’t know what to believe anymore, but I like you. I know that much. And I know I said I invited you back to my place to get in your pants, but… I’ve never been the one night kind of guy, y’know? So I know you can’t stay, but at least call me?”

Castiel nods, then tiptoes to kiss Jared on the forehead. He doesn’t know how much power it has anymore, but he whispers an Enochian blessing as well. “Thank you. For everything. May your auditions go well.”

Jared nods, hugging him. “Stay safe, Cas.”

And the truth is, to his surprise, he doesn’t want to let go. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since they first met, and already he feels… attached. It’s different, being human — all these needs, these problems, these feelings. Things used to be so simple. And yet, looking at Jared now, he remembers why they are his Father’s finest creation. He has to protect him. He lets go.

“Don’t say yes,” he warns quietly, stepping back.

“Huh?” Jared looks confused.

“Others, like ghosts and demons, take advantage of your weakness and possess you by force, but angels need your consent to enter and use your body. Some will even trick you for it. Be careful.”

Jared looks incredulous, but only agrees, “I’ll do my best. Promise you’ll call?”

“I promise. Goodbye, Jared.”

“Goodbye, Cas.”

He picks a bus and boards it. It doesn’t really matter which for now as long as it takes him away from Jared. There aren’t really any that will take him to Sam and Dean anyway. As the bus pulls away, he looks out the window to find Jared still standing there, watching. The other waves, and he waves back. He looks until the bus turns the corner, then shifts his gaze to the bandage tied around his left hand. If prayer still reached the right ears, he’d pray for Jared, but now, he can only hope.

~*~

Castiel looks from the laundromat across the road to the dark blue door before him and then down at the little piece of paper in his hand. Maybe he should have called ahead. Maybe he shouldn’t be back here, putting Jared in danger. Even if the angels can’t track him anymore, there could be more rogue reapers like April. And it feels like he’s cheapening what little they shared by coming back only because Dean said he had to leave, because he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.

No, he tells himself. He does have a choice. He could go to any number of homeless shelters instead and find some kind of work to survive like he did before. He isn’t here as a last resort; he’s here because it just wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be the same without Jared’s pulse to lull him to sleep and warm arms to wake up in. It wouldn’t be the same without Jared’s indulgent laughter and optimistic sentimentality. But it’s selfish to seek out the one comfort he’s found to put it at risk. He should go.

Just then, the door opens, and Jared very nearly walks into him. “Sor—Cas?” The other breaks into a delighted smile, bright as sunshine. “You came back!” He’s pulled into a tight hug, and all at once, every thought of leaving flees his mind. “I was starting to think I’d never hear from you again.” Jared lets go to hold him at arm’s length and look at him, concerned. “Why didn’t you call? Did you reach your friends?”

“I um… A lot of things happened, and I reached them, yes, but I couldn’t stay.”

“Great! No, I mean—” Jared flails, bursting with excitement. “I’ve been dying to tell you. Remember the audition that day? They called me back! I got the role!”

He smiles. “That’s wonderful, Jared. I’m glad it worked out.”

“Yes! That means I don’t have to go back to Texas. I can keep this place, maybe get somewhere a little bigger soon, and,” Jared takes his hands. “That means you can stay.”

He opens his mouth and closes it, then tries again. “Jared, I’m not here for your help. I cou—”

“Then get a job and help with rent or something.” An arm wraps around his shoulders to lead him along as Jared walks. “When we get a bigger place, Imma bring Harley and Sadie here too.”

Jared pulls him closer, and already he feels his resolve slipping. “Harley and Sadie?”

“Oh, they’re my dogs. I miss them already. I can’t wait to have them back with me. And it’d be great to have someone help take care of them while I’m shooting.”

“I… I don’t know anything about dogs, and I can’t talk to animals anymore.”

The other levels him a patient look and laughs. “Cas, I’ve never been able to talk to animals, and I manage just fine. There are ways to communicate that don’t need words. Like this.” He presses his lips to Castiel’s temple, gentle and lingering.

“Aren’t you afraid?” he asks weakly. “After the last time?”

“A little. Will they come back?”

“I don’t know. I mean, they can’t track me anymore, and they probably don’t expect me to come back here after that, but there are other ways to find me, other beings.”

“Then I guess I’m at just as much risk as anyone else,” Jared concludes with a shrug. “Since you say there are monsters everywhere anyway.”

“Jared…”

“Cas, why did you come back?” They stop abruptly, Jared turning to him.

A little surprised, he opens his mouth to answer, but suddenly, they’re kissing, and it doesn’t matter anymore. He twines his fingers in Jared’s hair, closing his eyes, and clings on tightly. When they break off, Jared is grinning.

“If your answer is anything besides this fantastic feeling or the spectacular sex, don’t tell me.”

The teasing words and joking tone belie such warmth, and he presses their foreheads together. “Both,” he decides, then adds, “Although I was mostly thinking about pizza, ice cream and six kinds of Cheerios.”

Jared laughs, and they resume walking. “C’mon. I was just about to go tell Nora at the Gas-N-Sip down the road that I won’t be able to work anymore because shooting starts in two weeks. She’ll need a replacement, and I bet she’ll give you a shot.”

“Okay,” he agrees, leaning into his companion’s side. Then he straightens as it occurs to him. “I can’t give her my real name.”

The other giggles. “Sure’nuff. Any ideas, Clarence?”

No, that won’t work either. He looks around, searching for inspiration. The appliances shop they’re passing has some televisions on display. One of them says the video playing is called True To Your Heart by 98 Degrees and Stevie Wonder.

“Steve.”

Blue-green eyes twinkle. “Steve what? Rogers?”

Castiel nods. “That works.”

Jared snorts and cracks up. “No, no, no. Nuh-uh. You can’t call yourself Captain America for a believable pseudonym. Try again.”

Castiel thinks. He’s still thinking when he sees the Gas-N-Sip. Of course, he knows it’s just a name, but he’s never had to think about such things before, and he really doesn’t have any ideas. They walk in, and Jared waves at the blond lady behind the counter.

“Jared! You’re early,” she greets, sounding pleased.

“Hey, Nora. Howdy?”

“Good, good. Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, this is Steve. So you know I came up here for auditions, right? Well, I finally got cast!”

The last few words are practically a squeal of excitement, and Nora gasps.

“Congratulations! I’ll be sad to lose you though. My guess is you won’t be working here for long?”

He offers her an apologetic smile, leaning on the counter. “Shooting starts in two weeks. But my buddy Steve here is moving in with me and helping with rent, so he needs a job. Think he’ll do?”

Nora looks at Jared and shakes her head. “With that kind of charm, I can’t believe your family wanted to put you in engineering.” She turns to Castiel and offers her hand. “Welcome aboard then, Steve…?”

He blinks. That’s right. Family. He takes her hand and shakes it.

“Winchester. Steve Winchester.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated! ♥


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